


Waiting Out the Storm

by cyndario



Series: Talibah Cadash | good kid, m.A.A.d City [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndario/pseuds/cyndario
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Cole had once told her that her hurt was muted, like a storm hidden behind a case of glass. How he reached for it but he couldn't get in. But glass shatters when pressed upon, shaking, straining, creaking beneath the weight. You bottle up the storm and hope it dies out, but how can you tame a storm?</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Talibah has been experiencing dreams for the first time in her life. But instead of passive musings of an unoccupied mind, she's assaulted by the same nightmare a thousand different ways every night. Bull is convinced she's got something eating away at her, but he can't help her unless she admits she needs it in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Out the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> tw: abusive language

_The dry, decayed skin of Corypheus chaffed her as he effortlessly dangled her body in front of his face. The burning look of absolute hatred pierced into her heart, and for the first time in her life she was truly afraid. Sneering at the tears that fell from her cheeks, he squeezed on her midsection harder, snapping bones and causing her to cry out feebly in pain._

**They send a Child of the Stone to face me? Kneel before me, urchin, and know your betters. For I am the Elder One, and I will deliver this wretched world from the silence of its' Maker.**

_She screamed, her voice a shrill shriek that echoed in the valley of the mountains. He laughed at her then, his grip tightening as his dragon stalked ever closer._

**Yes, offer up to me your screams! Let your death be your final offering to your new god.**

_She was coughing up blood, the pinprick sensation of losing use of her limbs spreading throughout her body. Her vision going spotty, the screams of the faithful in Haven dying out in the fires. She looked around helplessly, the bodies of her friends littering the snow, their blood darkening and melting the white lands below to a river, the red of their blood seeping through. Talibah knew she would die in the arms of this monster. Her only regret, was that she couldn't buy the others more time._

__ _I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you._

__

* * *

_"You're hurting, and I can't help unless you let me in. The glass is strong but parts are cracking. Splitting, cleaving, crackling under the weight. You bottle up the storm and hope it dies out, but how can you tame a storm?"_

With a start, she opened her eyes and blinked furiously, trying to adjust her vision to the deep darkness of her room. In her panic, she was heaving air in through her nose, reliving another twisted version of those moments of terror from so many months ago. She curled into herself, clutching her over-sized tunic within her fingers.  Her new ability to experience dreams--and in turn experience what Solas called 'night terrors'--made it hard for her to sleep some nights. She had gotten better--she didn't thrash as much, didn't cry. No, now she would pull herself back into the waking world, breathe heavily and try to descend into a fitful night's rest for a few more moments. On nights when Bull 'gives her what she needs' (she still rolls her eyes at that) she'll sleep like she did before. A still and peaceful darkness, the cacophony of the waking world silenced in favor for her sleep state. Her body knew when to rise, how to listen out for the bells of the early hours. And on nights when she was thoroughly sated--which let's be honest, was _every time_ Bull joined her bed--she'd sleep like the stone.

But these night terrors were trying their damnedest to take away any semblance of peace she might attain lately.

The echoes of her latest one still hummed in the back of her mind, a chill coursing through her. She focused on the hearth at the foot of her bed, how the embers were soft and docile compared to the raging madness of her dreams. She shut her eyes, the timbre of Corypheus' voice still in her mind.

**Let your death be your final offering.**

She half expected to feel his breath on her face again, his claws digging into her skin. She opened her eyes and the scenery remained unchanged.

 ****She was in bed, she was _safe_.

She looked for the fires of burning buildings.

She only saw the ebbing lights from candles and lanterns around Skyhold.

She listened for the sounds of the corrupted mages screaming for her death.

She only heard the damped sounds of people milling about through her open windows, getting ready for the day or retiring for the night.

There was no blight twisted dragon--no Corypheus.

She was in bed, the Iron Bull next to her, his larger form nearly engulfing her bed.

Her breathing evened out as she stared into the dark morning sky through the open window. The dark clouds of the night before lingered, a royal purple mixed with a haze of blue, the faintest tinges of orange creeping from the faraway distance.

Turning over in her Orleasian style bed she came face to face with Bull's sleeping form, his chest slowing rising and falling with each breath he took. She tried to relax her body, drift into a few more hours of sleep so he wouldn't wake up but he was such a light sleeper.

She should have known he would have woken up.

His hand came down from over his face and pressed her closer into him, cradling her smaller form into his own. His voice reverberated in a deep rumble through his chest, tickling Talibah's cheek as she nuzzled closer.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No. Same dream. Really, don't worry about it. I'm fine." Talibah muttered dismissively, exhaustion laced in her voice. This avoidance usually worked, he would say something snippy, she would pretend not to care, and she'd slip back into a fitful sleep.

Bull was having none of that it seemed.  He craned his large head down in her direction, his one good eye piercing through her attempt at avoiding conversation.

"And yet, it's keeping you up more times than I can count." Sighing wearily, Talibah traced her fingers along patch of scars that littered the great expanse of his chest. She wanted to just roll over and sleep, but Bull didn't seem like he wanted to let this go.

"That's the thing, Bull. Dwarves don't dream. But the only thing I can seem to dream about is how much of a fucking failure I was at Haven and how Corypheus and his goddamn dragon were _this fucking close_ to just ending me right there and--"

His large grey hand that had wrapped protectively around her lifted up lazily and came down over her fleshy rear in a loud smack. The gush of air that left her lungs caused her to choke on her words, her train of thought lost in her throat. Sitting up frustrated, she pushed against him but he barely stirred.

"The **fuck** was that for, Bull?" Her voice rose louder, her agitation trickling through.

"How many times I gotta tell you that a fucking undead Vint magister swooping in with an _archdemon_ was nothing you were prepared for?" She opened her mouth to retaliate, but his grumble became louder as he sat up, his eye piercing into her own. His hand that had just laid the unforgiving slap to her rear was now cradling her tender skin, pulling her closer. "How many times are you gonna torture yourself, Talibah?" His voice, that deep rumble that still held faint traces of sleep dropped down to a near whisper as he breathed in her exhale, surprising her as he lifted her chin to look him in the face.

_"You have to let it out. Your hurt will only stay hidden for so long. It will spill, topple, devour you if you don't let him help."_

__

And that's when the glass began to crack.

"This shit, Bull, is eating me alive. They want perfection, they think of me as a... a hero. They regard me as the manifestation of their holy Andraste walking among them like she would have ever given a damn about me or mines. And in the same breathe they try to discredit who I am on the basis of me being a dwarf. Like I asked for this mark, for their holy woman to choose me." She pushed back a little further in his arms and tried to give them-- _herself_ \--space.

Stone preserve her she needed _air_.

_"It's growing, gnawing at your heart. You want to help, but not yourself. You have to. Why won't you help yourself?"_

__

The glass casing her sentiment hid behind was cracking in more places, the grooves deepening, the glass waning. The winds of her emotions were bellowing, begging to be set free. They pressed upon the glass more fervently, the whistles of the oncoming storm seeping through.

"Give me rogue templars, give me bandits, shit give me _trade contracts_ \--I can deal. But the instant we start bringing in shit from human fairy tales I'm caught off guard. This isn't my element. I'm a smuggler. I'm the daughter of one of the most powerful members of the Carta. I was raised for being in the shadows, hidden and working in plain sight. But this shit? A holy war? A magister? All of this _scrutiny_? I don't understand it. If all he wanted was this Anchor on my hand he can have it. Stone beneath me let him _take it_."

Talibah didn't notice that tears were falling down her face, not until her vision became cloudy, and Bull's face became more indistinct. Her chest was heaving, her voice cracking and her hysteria rising with each breath she took. She ran her fingers hastily through a patch of her hair, it's limp form gliding like water under her touch.

_"It's alright. Just let go--let it pass. Let it break and we can help you come back."_

__

A chip fell then, and the entire casing fell, the storm that was building over time now set free.

"I hear them, the screams of the ones that fell to that fucking dragon, to the Venatori that breeched through. Their blood is on my hands, Bull. I should have been quicker. I should have been more thorough. No one should have gotten past me." She extricated herself out of his grip then, and he let her. He watched as she paced around, her entire demeanor shifting, breaking away under the flurry of her emotions.

The thunder echoed in the distance, the fury of her storm building. Her voice was rising, her heart felt like it was breaking. But the winds would not be silenced. This rain would not be stopped. This pain seemed never ending.

_"It's louder now. Shouting, screaming, shrieking. It’s not finished. You have to let it pass."_

__

"Leliana knew. She knew something was happening _weeks_ before but she didn't want to risk her agents. I told her she was in the right, but a part of me was lying. If she had been more open, if she had _trusted_ me I could have figured out something. We could have abandoned Haven. We could have met them in the valley, been better prepared. Haven might still be here--those people might have still been here. But I'm the one they judge. I'm the one they scrutinize. I'm the one who's made to conform to their customs, to their rules, to their religion. I'm the one who's losing herself faking to be the leader they want. I'm the one who hears the whispers of the nobility in _my house_ calling me a halfling. I'm the one who is questioned and doubted because I'm proud of my belief in the Stone. I'm the one held up as if I'm a goddess and cast down as an abomination all at once. This life may be normal for the humans, but this ain't me. I’m so fucking tired. So goddamn tired, Bull."

She tripped over her feet, landed with a hard crash to the ground and in her embarrassment stayed there. Her breathing was erratic, her gasps pitiful and short. Her tears stole the last of her voice, and she curled in on herself and rocked herself through the hurricane.

_"Let him help you. He--the Iron Bull--wants to help you. You have to let someone help you. Or the storm will come back again, and you might not come back."_

__

Bull quietly got off the bed, and sat on the floor next to her. Pulling her gently, he let her continue to cry into his chest, his large hand splayed across her back. His thumb moved to and fro, but he said nothing. He sat there, like a light tower, and weathered the onslaught of her emotions. Right now, she didn't need pity. She didn't need coddling. So he gave her none of that. What she needed was stability, she needed a willing ear to listen. So he would sit here for as long as she needed, because in this room, that's what he did.

He gave her what she needed.

The storm within her was withering now, the wind seeming to fade in strength. When she had no more tears to cry, she coughed and tried to clear her throat. The rasp that came through distorted her voice, raw from her cries she tried once more to speak.

"They tried to change me back home, too. Said I was too soft, said I needed to be harder. _Umi_ wanted me to take her place, but she wouldn't let a pushover inherit everything she built. I was too diplomatic, she said, too trusting. The other clans would never accept anything less than what my mother was. I come to Haven, shackled and accused, and they muttered the worst insults I’ve ever heard. They called me a mudskin, a halfman, a casteless whore. They accused me of a crime I never committed, but when I stopped the breach from growing? When I sealed that shit? Suddenly I'm their savior, I'm their Herald, I'm _my lady_." She sucked her teeth in aggravation, shaking her head. "Now they want to mold me into a more 'respectable image'." She laughs bitterly at that, the murmurings of her friends echoing in her mind.

_'Wouldn't it be easier to just straighten your hair? You look rather wild with it...free like this.'_  Dorian, his curious hands _always_ reaching for the stray curls that fell across her face.

 _'Must you always be so crass, mi amiga? That kind of language is unbecoming.'_ Josephine, shaking her head as she poured herself over reports.

 _'I assure you, Inquisitor, the way we handle things here in the Inquisition is vastly different than the Carta._ ' Leliana, dismissing her suggestion on how best to obtain information from a traitor spy.

 _'Why must you continue to smoke that pipe? It lingers in your wake for hours.'_ Cassandra, her nose scrunched up in disgust as she walked by her as she smoked in the garden.

 _'I'm amazed one such as you can even lift an ax that size. Would you not prefer a hand ax instead?'_ Cullen, after he watched her train on the practice field.

 _'A word of advice? You should start to wear corsets, darling. The darker tint of your clothing can only shield so much.'_ Vivienne, her perfectly manicured hand gesturing towards her round midsection.

"The more I try to be myself, be honest and open, the less people wish to listen. They want an image--a story to spin, a product to sell, a lie to believe in--but they don't want me. They don't give a nugshit about _Talibah bint Sanjit al-Kal-Sharok_. They want the Herald of Andraste, and I don't know how much more I can give to them. How much more of myself has to be hidden away before they're satisfied."

Her voice then came out as a soft whisper, her self assured demeanor gave way to doubt. She felt so much smaller in that moment, like a child, and shut her eyes tightly as she clung to Bull. His breathing was even, controlled, but he felt tense. Fear crept into her heart then, what if she'd said too much? She did have an image to maintain, after all. Maybe she just shattered his about her? Her thoughts came to an abrupt stop as his voice crashed through the panicked thoughts that had started to form in her mind.

"Fuck 'em."

She opened her eyes quickly and jerked her head upwards, looking into Bull's eye as he held back his possessive rage. She tried to sit up in his arms, maybe she didn't hear him right.

"What--?"

"You heard me. Fuck 'em. They don't know you, they don't get to judge. The only opinion at the end of the day that you should give a damn about is your own. People always want to assume they could do better. You have given everything of yourself for these people. You have spilled blood to make sure they are safe. You wear the burden of responsibility not because you want to, but because you want to protect the others at all costs." He sighed, her body shrinking away from the truth in his words. Angling her chin upwards, he ran a calloused finger across her cheeks, tracing the pattern of the tattoos on her skin. His voice softened, and he kept reading her like an open book. "Your nature is to protect first, yourself last. But you need to tell them to get fucked and protect _yourself_. Don't let anyone--and I mean anyone--change you. Not your family, not your advisers, not your friends and not me. Anyone who tries to stifle that beast in you needs to hear you roar. And if you need me to, old Iron Bull 'll make sure they listen."

Talibah looked desperately for a shred of deception in his voice, uncertainty in his face as he spoke to her. But his entire demeanor spoke a truth she was trying so desperately to ignore. She cared so unashamedly about the well-being of the others here that she herself was nothing more than an afterthought. She vied for the approval of others so fiercely that she was killing herself to juggle the masks. How much longer would she have lasted had she not made her thoughts known? How long did she think she could have held this facade had she not expressed herself even once?

Cole had once told her that her hurt was muted, like a storm hidden behind a case of glass. How he reached for it but he couldn't get in. But glass shatters when pressed upon, shaking, straining, creaking beneath the weight. He left her confused, but now everything came full circle. She heard the echoes of his words more clearly now, her heart softened at the tender joy in his voice.

 

 _"He helped you. I helped you. Thank you for letting us. We don't like to see you hurt."_  An errant tear fell down her cheek at that, and she wiped it away quickly.

"You alright?" Bull's voice broke her out of her reverie, and she looked back up into his face.

Closing her eyes momentarily, Talibah took a deep breath and nodded, a serene smile forming across her lips. When she opened her eyes, Bull visibly relaxed, his toothy grin bursting through.

"You wanna get anything else out? I'm not going anywhere, and we can stay in here all day--meetings be damned. The Inquisition won't fall apart if you take a day to rest." His voice was gruff, still laced with traces of worry, but a softness leaked through. Easy and comforting like the rays of the rising sun outside her window.

Laughing softly, she leaned down and placed a small kiss over his chest. This big oaf and him 'giving her what she needed'. And oh, how badly she had needed this.

"No, I think I'm alright now. But staying here does sound like a good idea." Meetings be damned? She could get on board with this. Stretching in his arms, a yawn escaped her, yet she looked more at peace than she had in a long while. Placing her arms around his neck, she pulled herself a little higher in his grip smiled brighter. She lazily brushed her fingers across his skin, mimicking the patterns he drew across her own.  

"Good, because you need to sleep. And this time, I'll make sure you have good dreams." The pitch in his voice dropped, and she arched her eyebrow at him.  
"Oh? And how do you plan on accomplishing that, Bull?" Her voice lowered with his, the rasp in her voice now from desire instead of tears.

The hand that was cradling her back slipped lower until his large fingers were nestled in the skin of her thighs. He dug his fingers into her pliant skin, his grip strong yet not demanding. The hand that was tracing lines over her cheeks now caressed her throat, his broad fingers lazily brushing over her sensitive skin. He glanced down at her full lips then smirked as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I plan on hearing you roar."

**Author's Note:**

> I was always a little disappointed with how they handled the dream scene with Solas in the Fade as a Cadash, being that dwarves have no affinity for magic and no ties to the fade. It was never mentioned by Solas as being unusual that they're there with him or by your Inquisitor. This was born in response to that, my own take on how after that one instant, dreams wouldn't be this wonderful thing she was always told she was missing out on. Instead it was eating away at her, her subconscious and her pain from the waking world simply following her into a place where she was most vulnerable. Hopefully I got that across. 
> 
> Also, there are a few words/names in here that I should translate for you:
> 
> umi: Arabic for mother  
> Talibah bint Sanjit al-Kal-Sharok: her formal name--Talibah, daughter of Sanjit (her father) of Kal-Sharok (where he's from). Her father is a merchant turned Carta member from Kal-Sharok. I hope to expand upon his role and that of her life in the Carta in latter fics. 
> 
> Should I expand on this theme? Should I weave a better dream state for our Inquisitor? Maybe we'll find out one day. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.


End file.
